Cultural Exchange
by Metrimethyl
Summary: What can the French and English teach one another when they collide?
1. Chapter 1

Sitting in the middle of a ratty old rug in the middle of a ratty old house couldn't seem more wonderful to Fleur. Being stuck with the Weasleys for the holidays was fantastique. Everything in their house, as messy and hob-nob as it was, seemed shiny and beautiful to her. She stared in awe at the situational grandfather clock, the squishy armchairs, the claustrophobic but ... charming ... kitchen, the gnomes running amok in the garden, the twins, who were conducting "safe" experiments on the old piano in the corner of the living room. The piano had started to moan in pain, but to Fleur, it could only be a beautiful serenade. 

It was supposed to be a sort of exchange for the Triwizard competitor: The French girl would have a chance to take in British culture first-hand as part of her year abroad and the Brit family would have its eyes opened by a foreigner. Ron was happy to the point of disappearing to his room frequently and mysteriously. Ginny was annoyed but concealing it half-decently, save for a grumbled Phlegm every now and again. Bill was still feigning disinterest, and, as a result, Mrs. Weasley was happy to have the girl at the moment because she was oblivious. Madame Maxime welcomed it, because Fleur was spending Christmas with Harry Potter, too, who surely had good tricks up his sleeve, based on that showing at the first challenge . Mmme. Maxine was a wonderful professor, Fleur thought to herself just then, but for the Triwizard Cup, she was as cutthroat as the Durmstrangs.

As for Fleur, she couldn't give two shits about the Cup right now. She was ecstatic about being there for another reason, and it sat across the living room from her with a book up like a suit of armour. "Goblin Wars," Fleur mouthed slowly to herself. A quick conversion to French, and her nose wrinkled in distaste before quickly smoothing out again with a smile. If ze bookworm liked it, Fleur thought to herself, then surely goblins were actually quite interesting.

Fleur knew deep down that she really shouldn't stare at that book or what lay behind it. She had heard the British were stuffy about her kind. Right now, though, she couldn't quite help it. Since the bouillabaise incident, she hadn't been able to resist watching those chestnut curls, those measuring eyes, the fierce manner of a girl so utterly Gryffindor. She had swept Fleur off her feet. Well, perhaps "knocked over" was more suitable, Fleur pondered, as she thought back to that wonderful, heart-stopping encounter in the library.

Eyes suddenly appeared above the book to glare at Fleur, but not before the French girl's gaze had admirably slid to focus on the gnomes in the garden, the window being just past Hermione. Brown eyes snapped back to the goblin text, followed by icy, laughing, blue ones, only for the process to repeat. Hermione was always too slow for a confrontation to occur, however. That was, until Fleur started to laugh about the whole thing, chuckling to herself. When she opened her eyes, the measuring gaze she adored was fixed intently on her. She froze, before attempting a casual switch to focus on Ronald for damage control. Ron eeped awkwardly and ran to his room again, causing Fleur to laugh, Ginny to groan, and Hermione to be distracted from her supposed successful catch. Fleur continued to smile. The red-headed friend of Hermione's was always a sure thing. 


	2. Chapter 2

"So," Fleur looked up expectantly. "It is christmas, non?"

In one way or another, everyone seemed to suddenly pay attention to Fleur. You could hear Ron in the corner with Harry, whispering, "Did you hear how she said no at the end?!" The twins dropped something violent green into a rubbage bin as they paused to listen to her. In the middle of a game of wizarding chess with Hermione, Ginny held her queen in the air. Hermione didn't look, but paused, also, with her rook squirming between her fingers. Fleur's skin seemed to react to even the hint of attention from the other girl, and she smiled at everyone to distract herself from the fuzz-capped whatzits fluttering about in her stomach.

Molly smiled a little smile at all of this while sipping tea at the kitchen table. What an earnest girl that Fleur was, she thought to herself. 

Mr. Weasley smacked the kitchen tabletop smartly. "Quite right, Fleur!" Then he looked around the house quickly and sheepishly added, "Though ... we haven't quite started with the festivities just yet." At this, Bill got up and went over to kneel before the French girl.

"How's about we start things now, then, hey?" Bill said. "It's a chance," He continued, while reaching out to grasp her hands in his, and rubbing her hand with a thumb, "to get a hands-on experience in Britain." Fleur could feel his intentions through that thumb, which seemed to have put down roots on hers.

Mrs. Weasley had frozen in place at the table in response, with her eyes narrowed slightly at the lack of space between Fleur and Bill. Similarly, a delicate and knowing smile found its way onto Fleur's features, before disappearing into a classic Veela play known as the French Squeal.

"C'est tres bon!" Fleur's voice went up an octave and ten decibels as she whipped her hands up to her cheeks, such that Bill leaned back from the sonic blow and blinked thrice in shock. 

"Right ... then," Bill said after shaking his head a bit to knock the squeal out of it. "How's about we..."

"Go degnome the garden?" Mrs. Weasley finished for him, giving him a hard look. A nervous laugh escaped the handsome young man.

"Well," he said, running a thick hand through his ginger hair. "It's awfully snowy, they're probably already..."

"Hibernating? Haven't you looked out the window?" Bill turned pink. "No, no," continued Mrs. Weasley. "It's still a tad too warm for them to tuck away for winter just yet. Now, out you go, Bill. Get a coat on and out with ye for some fresh air to do you good." The evil eye from Mrs. Weasley broke Bill's courage like a wishbone. He gave a sad little sigh and turned to grab his toque, previously discarded on the rug.

"Hah," Ron sniggered. "Have fun with that, Bill." Harry shook his head at Ron's folly as Molly's eyes swivelled in their sockets to fix on her son. The poor boy nearly choked.

"You go, too." She almost growled. Then, eyeing the green mystery slime eating a hole through one of her rubbage bins, she snapped, "And the two of you had better get out there as well, before I throw you out." The twins had been slinking off to their room a moment ago, but now sighed in resignation and headed off for their snowsuits, grumbling. "What's she doing sitting here when she could be frightening Death Eaters off their rockers instead of us?" They hissed mutinously.

Fleur, at first ecstatic about evading The Bill, lit up suddenly at the spark of a plan. She reached out suddenly to grab at Bill's arm. Bill's eyebrows shot up like fireworks.

"Degnoming a garden! Magnifique! I will get my coat also and learn about this strange British tradition!" Fleur watched as, sure enough, Ginny then stood in a grumpy fashion like clockwork, clearly intent on protecting her brothers from Phlegm, and went off to haul out her snowsuit, too. Hermione, now without a chess partner, scowled down at her wriggling rook. Then, a small look of horror crossed her face as Harry, too, got up. He caught the look she gave him.

"What?" Harry shrugged off the accusation of betrayal. "Ron's going out, so we might as well go, too. Get some exercise." With this, he tossed a toque at Hermione. Arms raised in defeat, Hermione got up and put the toque on. She put her goblin text lovingly on a shelf. The display of tenderness, albeit towards a book, got the whatzits in Fleur's tummy acting up again. 

"You're right, Harry." Hermione gave a small smile as she reached for a scarf. Her hand seemed to shake a bit, or maybe Fleur imagined it. "Let's see what you say, though, after the gnomes are through with you." 

Fleur couldn't help the quirk at the corner of her lips as she watched her chestnut girl pull on mittens. Balls were rolling, cogs were turning, and Fleur was hoping like hell that she could make this work in her favour. 


	3. Chapter 3

Fleur looked back at the footprints in the snow. The people she was with were written there, and she couldn't help but smile. Harry was also staring at the footprints, but more in shock than anything else.

"The treads are animated, too?" He asked Fleur in quiet awe. 

"Oui, 'Arry." She smiled. "People tend to personalize their treads with magic."

"Oi, I guess you wouldn't know that, would you?" Ron had turned back. He stomped in some clear snow. In the wake of his great boots, little snow quaffles flew in circles. Harry smiled.

"Yes, Harry. It's quite simple to do it. Want some snitches?" Hermione elbowed him gently, before stomping the snow herself. Animated potions equations wrote themselves down in her footprints. Fleur turned away a bit and laughed into a mitten.

"What?" Hermione asked sharply. "Something funny?" 

Fleur started coughing. Turning to face the other girl made her hot in her heavy coat. She thought she might melt her way through the snow.

"Non, non!" Fleur swung her arms in surrender. "It's just..."

WHAP. Fleur's beautiful face was suddenly half-covered in snow, her ice blue eyes widened in shock. A snowball to the head would shut anyone up, even Fleur. The others looked over, to where they saw the twins grinning mischievously. Bill, with a squirming gnome in hand, was also glaring at them now.

"You beanpoles had better run for it." Bill said through his teeth.

Fleur magicked the snow off of her blue felted hat and face. Her gaze was shadowed by blonde hair, but you could spot a very evil little smile. "Oui. You m'sieurs are, how you say, dead?"

With a flick of Fleur's wrist, twenty odd snowballs pulled themselves from the ground nearby. Then Fleur whirled and, slashing with her wand as if it were a sword, snowballs hurtled towards the now screaming twins.

"SNOWBALL FIGHT!" Ron whooped, before hurling a snowball at Bill.

"You little bastard!" Bill stood spluttering, as Ron yelled, "Accio Cleansweep!" Harry did likewise. As they flew away towards the twins, Ron yelled to Harry, "I figure, if we're against Fleur, I might get some wrestling action in the snow!" Harry rolled his eyes.

Ginny, bent over with a gnome in each hand off in the garden a ways, looked up. Doing the math in her head, she realized this was a chance to be violent towards Fleur. 

"I'm with the twins!" She yelled, before racing off in their direction.

The twins grinned at their constructed chaos. "Good work, Fred."

"Anything to spice up degnoming, George."

Then, they started to run towards their previously constructed snow fort. As they did, though, they crashed hard into a wall of snow.

"Merlin!" They yelled, as they realized they'd actually ran smack dab into an enormous snow golem. Fleur looked in awe at the creature. It was high level magic. To her right, she could see Hermione concentrating intensely, and followed her eyes to the golem.

"You made a golem?!" 

Hermione's eyes scrunched up, and the golem fell apart. She looked over at Fleur in annoyance.

"Come on, then!" Hermione yelled. "If we're going to teach them a lesson, we need to focus!" Hermione grabbed Fleur's hand and dragged her off to a snow bank for cover. Fleur's heart shone for the fiery girl, and it was hard for her to care much about the twins at the moment. Hell, she was inwardly singing their praises right now.

Sitting behind the snowbank, alone with Hermione, Fleur could barely formulate a sentence, let alone battle plans. Hermione, on the other hand, was peering over the bank. Turning back to Fleur, she started to draw out strategies in the snow with her wand, as snowballs flew overhead.

"We need a distraction. I noticed their snow fort over to the east. They've probably fortified it with something or another, so we'll have to be careful. Harry is strong with defensive spells and fairly adaptable so he'll probably be quite devious despite inexperience. As for Ron, we probably don't need to worry, but he has a tendency to fall uphill, so it's best to..."

Fleur tuned out. Hermione's cheeks were unusually pink right now, she concluded. Her gaze then wandered south a bit to watch similarly pink lips moving rapidly. What would happen if she just leaned over and ...?

"Fleur! Are you alright?" Bill had rushed over to Fleur and Hermione's position, and crouched down in front of Fleur. He now had a gloved hand on each of Fleur's shoulders. Surprised, all Fleur could do was look over at Hermione. Scowling, the younger girl had magicked a cannonball-sized snowball out of the ground and stood up.

"Time to kick some ass." She said. Magicking a board-like projection in the snow, she stepped onto it and raced off. Fleur mentally kicked herself. She turned dejectedly back towards Bill, before brightening with a plan in her crystal eyes.

"Genius..." She muttered to herself. Bill, still with his hands on her shoulders, looked at her curiously. Annoyed, Fleur smoothly plucked his hands off of her and held them in hers. He went beet red and gulped visibly.

"Bill, you are very strong, oui?" His Adam's apple did a little dance. "I 'sink we need a distraction, to protect Hermione and I. I'll go follow her, and you 'ead off 'zis way, okay?"

"No problem, Fleur!" Bill's eyes sparkled as he stood, balled a hand into a fist, and raced off into the snow with a battle cry. Fleur smirked, before whipping out her wand, pivotting in the snow and following Hermione's trail.

For a few minutes, Fleur ran through the snow, but as it became deeper, she realized this wasn't getting her anywhere fast. She had followed Hermione's trail in a thick wood, and, realizing she was alone, thought that it was alright to pull out her wildcard. 

Standing still in the deep snow, she focussed downwards and began to hiss. A little groan of pain, and her nails lengthened. Small feathers began to poke out of her skin, and those wonderfully icy blue eyes became spattered with gold. Soon, Fleur sighed, looked up, and anyone standing nearby would not have recognized the girl. 

"Allon sie." She growled, before hurtling through the deep snow on Hermione's trail. It was almost as if she was flying, she moved so rapidly in the now darkening pine forest. 

She was so fast, and her attention focussed so far off in the distance, in fact, that she never even had a chance to scream before the ground beneath her collapsed.

Dazed, Fleur rapidly returned to human form and struggled to gather her wits. Finally, she opened her eyes, and couldn't stop herself from sucking in her breath.

She had fallen into a collapsed earthen tunnel. Propping herself up on an elbow, she peered into the dark in front of her. Plain earthen walls travelled off into the dark. Plain, but there was something strange about them, Fleur thought. Looking at them more closely, she saw what almost looked like ... claw marks.

Fleur looked up quickly, breathing faster. The top of the tunnel was quite far away ... easily three times her height or more. She painfully reached for the wall to climb out, but it fell apart loosely in her hand. She was having trouble breathing.

A noise from the other end of the tunnel startled Fleur. She let go of the soil and frantically stood up, peering into the darkness. What was there? She couldn't see anything, but shivered for the feel of being watched. Her breathing was accelerating, when...

"Fleur!" The blonde girl's gaze whipped upwards, to see Hermione's face peering down at her from the edge of the hole.

"Hermione! Throw me a large stick, s'il vous plait!" 

Hermione blinked momentarily, before scouring the snow. A moment later, she dropped something into the pit. Fleur lunged for the large stick. The chill on the back of her neck was gone, but it still took all of her concentration to transfigure the piece of wood into a ladder. She leaned it up against the side of the pit and began to climb up.

Near the top, Fleur realized she hadn't quite made the ladder long enough. Hermione quickly reached over the edge to offer the older girl her hand. Fleur, shaken, could barely appreciate this as she would have in another situation. She grabbed Hermione's hand and held on for dear life. In her effort, she kicked the ladder accidentally from the wall, and it took a desperate scramble into soft soil before Hermione could haul Fleur over the edge to safety.

Fleur lay there in Hermione's arms in the snow, completely shocked. All she could do was stare off into the snow and hold onto the younger girl. She didn't notice the concerned look from Hermione, or the other girl's mittens about her waist.

"Fleur, are you alright?" Hermione said finally, softly, trying to catch the other girl's gaze. Fleur looked at Hermione from a distance, before shaking her head, as if to snap herself out of a daydream. She smiled shakily.

"Je vais ... comme ci comme ca. I mean... Oui, I am okay." She didn't want to let go of Hermione, but something about the forest and the pit made her feel almost ill. She let go of the other girl and struggled to her feet. Hermione held her at the elbow, watching her carefully, before magicking her snow board again and motioning for Fleur to get on. This time, Hermione sat down cross-legged, and Fleur followed suit behind her.

"Hold onto me, Fleur." Hermione said. "I only developed this spell a few weeks ago, and it's a bit rough around the edges." Despite her harrowing experience, Fleur had to smile at this, and suddenly, could better appreciate what Hermione had just asked her to do. 

"Merci, Hermione." Fleur said quietly, before snaking her arms about Hermione's waist to settle her gloves on Hermione's stomach. A feigned sigh, and Fleur then rested her collarbone on Hermione's upper back, and her cheek on the girl's neck. She felt the other girl stiffen slightly and then relax, before pushing her wand back and to the side. The snow board raced off through the dark trees, carrying the two girls away.

Fleur couldn't help but look back at the pit before it disappeared from view into the darkness. 


	4. Chapter 4

"I swear, you'll be eating through a straw for the next week." Bill Weasley almost hissed the words as he fumed at his younger brothers, the mischievous twins.

For the moment, his threats were inocuous. The snowball fight had escalated into the eldest Weasley boy being caged by Fred and George. Sitting in his cell of ice and magic, gloves on the bars, he strained to break free. He wouldn't normally have cared. Fred and George's greatest weakness, he knew, was simply losing interest. Giddy from a mere touch on the elbow by Fleur, though, the older boy couldn't help but fold into their game.

A delayed reaction to Bill's flimsy stampings, the twins lazed theatrically as they replied.

"Of course we will, Bill, my dear," George said, as Fred slipped a thin, dead branch inbetween the bars, only to have it snapped off by their older brother in primal rage. Fred tsked at this, before turning to his twin.

"I don't think he's ready to rejoin society just yet, George." The twins shook their heads in tandem.

"I'm afraid you're right, Fred. He's got quite the temper, he does."

Ginny, standing near her brothers, waited for Fleur to show up so she could make use of the mountain of snowballs she'd invested in, reserved solely for the older girl. Occasionally, she did considered hexing the twins for Bill's sake, but resisted her mutinous leanings. Helping Bill at this point would make beating the crap out of Fleur more difficult.

Ron, zooming about through the air on his old Cleansweep above Bill's cage and hooting at him, however, could not be said to reflect even Ginny's flickerings of remorse. He, too, was waiting for Fleur to show up, but enjoyed every moment up in the icy air, riding the glory of Fred and George's uprising.

A brief moment later, however, he did go mute. Harry, also drifting above the cage with Ron, though with humility, had not expected that. Watching as the redhead scrabbled at his chest and then swooped down to land a ways off from Fred and George, Harry followed, concern all over his face.

"What's up?" Harry asked, as they touched down. Ron looked quite sheepish, and seemed to curl away from Harry, hiding something. Then, Harry noticed it. A little glowing light blinked out from the neck of the other boy's jacket. Realizing where Harry's eyes were focussing, Ron eeped and turned away. Harry gripped Ron by the shoulder at this, and tried to pull him back around, with Ron swatting at him with a mitten in turn.

"What's that funny little light at your neck?" Harry said, exasperated.

Ron gulped. "Nuh... nothing." Ron mumbled, gaze averted, cheeks reddened even more than could be attributed to the cold. Harry gave him a stern look.

"Oh for..." Ron gave in, and pulled off ... a necklace. The little thing could scarce be called a necklace ... just a thin cord. Dangling from the end of it, though, was something a tad more interesting: A small charm, in the shape of a book. Ron unwillingly gave the thing to Harry, who fingered the charm. Surprisingly, the little bead WAS a book, jammed open slightly by Harry's thumb. He quickly cradled it with greater care.

"Got it from Fred and George," Ron conceded. Harry, as he said this, held the little thing delicately, trying to read it. "They said it tells you when someone is nearby and ... some other stuff." Ron looked horribly uncomfortable, and still would not look at Harry directly, he noticed, while squinting at the charm.

"Why is it a book?" Harry waited for an answer. He could make out the tiniest of scrawls...

"it's eventually meant for Hermione..." At this, Harry rolled his eyes. Of course, he would want to know HER whereabouts. Ron was such a twat sometimes...

"It will stop blinking when she gets it, mate!" Ron had seen Harry's glare a moment before. "It's just ... Krum was really keeping an eye on her, and I thought ... I don't trust the bloke... s'all..."

"Ron, Fred and George may have had good intentions, but honestly... Hurry up and give it to 'Mione so it will stop. I swear, I'm not above telling your mom." Ron squawked at this betrayal. Harry glared at him before passing the book back to Ron.  
"In this one case, that is legitimate tattling."

"Sure," Ron said quickly, relieved Harry wasn't threatening more than telling his mom after thinking for a moment. "No problem, not a one ..." Grateful that they were still out of earshot of the twins and Bill, Ron pocketed the charm, grunted, and prepared to lift off again, when he heard George yell.

Off in the distance, two girls approached at great speed, one a fierce-looking brunette, and the other a slightly unsettled but otherwise contented-looking blonde, her arms wrapped around the other girl. Hermione, chestnut curls whipping about her for the speed, seemed on the verge of passing out ... her eye twitching madly. Perhaps it was the icy wind. 


	5. Chapter 5

The pit was far from her mind as Fleur held onto Hermione ... sometimes for dear life. Hermione had been right ... as they had moments of nearly lurching into trees and their stomachs leaping out of place, Fleur decided to take advantage of the other girl's brilliant but experimental spellcasting. Naturally, their ride became infinitely more terrifying.

"WHOO!" Fleur cheered as they nearly grated themselves like cheese on a rock face. She had slid her hands across Hermione's stomach, as if to get a better grip, and yet, purposely being less subtle than she maybe should have been. Fleur was not surprised at all when they suddenly swerved towards a huge tree that should have been easy to avoid as she arched into Hermione's back. She liked to think she was having an effect on the girl. Pushing some of that gorgeous bushy hair off of a shoulder so she could see, Fleur nuzzled the other girl's cheek. She'd blame it on being scared, she decided, and grinned into that chestnut hair. Slightly ashamed of her recklessness, she battled weakly with desire but couldn't really be bothered at the moment. As she had expected of her dear Hermione, they managed to dodge the tree. She felt she was in good hands.

"Fleur, um..." A small voice almost lost in the wind. They had passed into a field on their brief travels. Fleur was stupidly happy.

"Oui?" Fleur said, turning lips towards the other girl's ear as she did so, brushing them lightly against the shell. In response, the snow board twisted, skidded, and finally just kind of fell over. The French girl, previously trusting, figured that maybe she had overdone it as she flew through the air.

A quick spell only the best of her age could manage, Fleur landed with feline grace. Looking around, she half-expected the younger girl to be submerged somewhere. Instead, she was crouching intently over something, though half-covered in snow, yes.

Even from a ways off, Fleur could see her eyes glinting eruditely.

"Fleur..." Hermione brushed snow off of something. "Look..." Eyes brightened even moreso. "Ah, it was worth the crash!"

Fleur wilted at that. Of course Hermione would crash for the sake of learning... fiddle.

Fleur eased in beside Hermione to peer at ... a stone tablet in the ground. Embedded? Brushing snow aside, more writing was revealed. Strange, cursive letters, dulled chiselling with age.

"I can't read it." Hermione said. "Fleur?"

Silver hair was swept back from icy eyes and Fleur looked carefully into the letters. She brushed away more snow. More letters. It kept going ... Hermione stepped up and back as Fleur cleared a great swath ... all letters. The slab ... was it just a slab? ... seemed to glow ... didn't it? Fleur was tired and more for flirting at the moment than research.

She stood there with Hermione, studying. Finally, she took off one glove, and reached out towards the stone.

"What are you...?"

"I have no idea." Fleur breathed. Contact.

For a moment, there was nothing, and then... Letters were vanishing. Hermione watched in awe as the null spread, extending into the snow drifts. Brushing a bit more aside, the girls realized that all of the text that they could see, at least, was gone.

They gawked at one another briefly before poking the stone again. Nothing. They jumped. Nothing. Cast spells, and nothing. Sang songs and cajolled, but the stone was blank and now did nothing. Finally, Fleur looked up to the sky. The sun was going down and the snow pink and blue with the day's end. Hermione followed her gaze, and wordlessly conjured their chariot again. She also sent a signal up into the sky.

"Maybe we'll find it again later," Hermione said in justification.

As Fleur stepped on behind Hermione, the younger said, "This time, don't squirm as much. It's distracting."

Fleur blushed slightly and nodded.

--

Hermione had only said she should decrease her "squirming", and so Fleur tried her best not to behave. As a result, Hermione looked somewhat distressed as the girls pulled into the yard of the Burrow. Fleur kept laughing inwardly, of course.

It wasn't long before a snowball whizzed past their heads. Hermione, now tired and impatient, raised her wand threateningly, realizing that maybe Fleur wasn't up for retaliation after a dark abyss and inscriptions that disappeared. As George leapt out of a tree at them, though, hooting madly, Hermione watched an evil grin form on Fleur's face as she got up to chase him.

Caught in mid-air with a flick of the French girl's wand, George was flung off a ways to submerge in a drift. Hermione grinned as she went off towards Bill in his cage.

"Finally!" Ginny yelled. Fleur was confused, but smartened up quick at the white onslaught. A rapid-fire Protego, and she watched, amused, as snowballs swirled around her. Then, as they melted, she looked over to see a wild-eyed Bill pointing his wand as if responsible, with Fred in a headlock to boot. He winked at her, of course. It seemed they had the upper hand now...

"Oi!" Mrs. Weasely hollered out to them. "Lucky you, you get to come back inside! DINNER!" Victory had been stolen from them.

Bill, Fleur and Hermione seemed dejected. No-one felt like arguing with Mrs. Weasely, however, so the trio managed some menacing glares before declaring truce.

--

"So, everyone!" Mr. Weasely began brightly as he sat down at the head of the Weasely table. Everyone looked up at him expectantly ... Hermione, for once, was caught popping a brussel sprout into her mouth. She was deathly starving after adventuring. They were waiting impatiently.

"S'alright if you eat, everyone!" The older man continued, smiling at the girl. Crunching, tearing, chewing and gulping noises suddenly filled the room as the table erupted in chaos, and Mr. Weasely couldn't help looking down in disappointed understanding as he then waited tiredly.

After a while, Ron, the last to finish his famished rampage, yelled with a stuffed mouth, "Alright, Dad, what was that then?" Mrs. Weasely rapped him on the back of the head for being rude, only to have him cough out a small potato. Mr. Weasely rolled his eyes.

"Sorry for that, everyone," Arthur said, eyeing the potato. "Anyway, I wanted to ask our guests what they thought of the house now?"

Fleur had been waiting for that... Even as a rich French girl, Fleur could not deny the charm of the Weasely Christmas, now that it was apparent. She noticed the snow first ... gentle, quiet flakes that decended from the warm ceiling. She reached out to touch one then, but they drifted on air currents just outside of her reach, seemingly avoiding her.

Ron actually said something to her then, of all people. "It was hard enough to convince to the flakes to come in for a week, Fleur. They won't put up with warm hands on top of that."

"I really like the ornaments, Mr. Weasely," Hermione said. The Weaselys smiled as they looked up to the walls to see tiny sleighs pulled by tiny reindeer, about and about. Or, snowmen. Or, angels and such. Some were even having races, trying to be careful not to tangle in one another's strings or crash into the floating, but still, bauble decorations. Mr. Weasely seemed slightly embarrassed when he realized a knot of ornaments seemed to be having a drinking party over on the windowsill. A bit of an evil eye from Mrs. Weasely, though, and the ornaments were back to work.

"Do the wreaths do anything?" Harry had to ask, as one was right by his face and made him suspicious. Mrs. Weasely came up behind him just then to smack him on the shoulder.

"Argh!" He looked to the wreath first, and then to Mrs. Weasely.

"No, dear, they don't do anything," She smiled mischievously as she walked past. "Just plain old wreaths."

Bill then piped up for a moment. "Any mistletoe, mum?" He eyed Fleur for a brief moment, not realizing that his blood should have been running cold. His gaze rose until it met his mother's deadly stare. "No," she said. He looked at her for a moment, smiled foolishly, and finally got the wit to focus on his pumpkin juice.

Fleur was happily ignoring Bill. Some cranberry sauce, some peas, a bit of mashed potatoe, some gravy... She had become hungry after their big fight outside. Unlike the twins, who might be likened to dragons scooping prey up by the jawful, Fleur seemed to spend much of her time slowly sliding her fork out of her mouth, savouring the feel of food slipping off of it. She had such a goofy expression of joy in such a state, that when she finally noticed Hermione watching her, Fleur was almost as red as the cranberry sauce in her embarrassment.

"So, as I was about to say," Apparently, Hermione had been about to say something, and it was only Fleur who was so caught up in her potatoes that she hadn't stopped. Excellent. "Which event were you talking about, Mr. Weasely?" Event? Fleur wondered.

"Well, Hermione," Mr. Weasely went on. "As host of the Triwizard Cup this year, Hogwarts will also be hosting a Yule Ball. It will be in just a few days."

"Why weren't we notified sooner?" Hermione had to ask. They had heard nothing of this ball since the beginning of the year.

"Planning for it had been delayed somewhat, and Dumbledore had been concerned that, due to some of the unexpected events of the year so far, it might be unwise to hold it. He has decided, however, along with your professors, to continue the tradition."

"And," Mrs. Weasely added. "You have all been notified, actually. Your invitations came with ours," At this, she gestured to Mr. Weasely and herself. "By owl today."

"You guys?!" Ron burst out, though his mouth was stuffed with turkey. "Why are YOU going?"

Mrs. Weasely didn't even bother glaring. Ron eeped, and looked down into his peas.

"We were invited, my charming son," Mr. Weasely said in mild amusement, "As chaperones. Don't want anyone spiking the punch, eh?" He said this last bit while eyeing Fred and George. They managed a decent attempt at looking innocent.

"I'll also be a chaperone!" Bill said somewhat belatedly, but the cheerful volunteer. Mrs. Weasely seemed to have trouble with a twitching of her brow just then.

"Well," Mr. Weasely went on. "We'll see if Dumbledore has room for another."

As they finished dinner, Fleur, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny all found their invitations, and began to discuss the event as they learned of it. Their chatter ceased when Harry went quiet.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione queried, leaning in to read Harry's invitation and seemingly his bane.

"Special notice to the Triwizard champions:" The parchment read. "The evening will begin with dances by the champions and their partners. Please be prepared."

"I really need to find a partner, I guess," Harry said, gulping. Fleur, looking more carefully through her invitation, had seen this as well, and couldn't help watching Hermione reassure Harry that it would be alright. Rather, she watched her smile. Or maybe just her lips.

As everyone headed off to do their own thing for the rest of the evening, Fleur ran her fingers over the embossed lettering of the parchment, trying her best to keep that goofy fork smile off her face. She wasn't quite sure of how to fanagle it yet, but to her, the Ball meant one thing.

--

Alone later in the evening in the girls' room, wrapped in a thick duvet, anyone might think Fleur was utterly content. Stuffed full by Mrs. Weasely, with some brownies still sitting on her night table nearby with steamed milk, Fleur simply gazed out into the dark. Snow fluttered in darkening whispers, beckoning at the old windows.

Arithmancy derivations floated through her head, but Fleur struggled to concentrate. She hugged a little stuffed snow leopard closer as she pored over them, pencilling in notes in margins. How was she going to balance that equation? Her thoughts kept fluttering back to letters that disappeared, as her fingers glanced off of smooth pages, and darkness.

Fleur startled slightly at a knock on the door. None other than Hermione. Fleur began to blush, and decided as a result to hide behind her stuffed leopard. Hermione, bemused, looked away for the brownies to pair with a hot cup of tea she held on a saucer.

"Ah, there they are. Do you mind...?" Fleur gathered herself together to reach for the plate.

"Non, please enjoy."

Hermione picked one up and went off to sit on her bed. Subconsciously, she pulled a textbook from under her pillow, but paused to stare out the window. Fleur could see she was similarly distracted.

Fleur had kept it to herself that the pit stretched off into the darkness. She hadn't wanted Hermione to think she was worried ... hadn't wanted Hermione to worry about it, either. Let her think of Arithmancy in peace, Fleur thought bitterly, as she swiped forcefully at her equation, cancelling some terms.

"I told Harry and Ron about the stone field, Fleur, and the pit. They hadn't seen my mark in the sky due to snowfall, but I think I can find it again. Do you want to head out tomorrow to see?"

Fleur hesitated, looking up from her text with a brownie in her mouth. She saw the faintest of smiles form on Hermione's beautifully earnest face. Fleur laughed, causing the brownie to fall apart. Part of it stayed with her, and part of it crumbled onto her leopard's head. At Fleur's look of horror and desperate collection of crumbs, Hermione laughed again.

Then, Fleur couldn't help it. She had to ask.

"So, Hermione," She said, poking her leopard in the nose, smoothing his whiskers. "Have you never had a Yule Ball at Hogwarts before?"

The brunette's eyes slid from watching her tea disappear from the inside of her cup, to watching Fleur. No change in expression, Fleur thought. Had she actually broached a touchy issue for the girl? Fleur pulled on her leopard's whiskers just then, much harder than he surely would have liked.

"No," Hermione finally answered her. "It's the first time for us English kids. And you?" The way Hermione looked at Fleur made her nervous. Maybe she really had groped the other girl too much on their ride home.

"Mmm... we have had smaller parties here and there..." Fleur waved her hand for emphasis here, "But this sounds like a very grand English party."

Hermione smiled again, though it was hidden from Fleur by a teacup.

"Certainly, another good experience for an exchange." Hermione finished, before grabbing her textbook, and excusing herself. As she disappeared into the hallway, Fleur let out breath she never knew she held.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione awoke with a start, sucking in her breath. From the shocked look of her eyes and the pain in her expression, she seemed tormented. Fingers clutching at her duvet, digging deeply into it, betrayed some inner hell, and curled up tightly beneath her covers, the girl seemed as rigid as the dead. Her wild hair twisted into and around itself, as if Hermione had been spiralling and flailing in battle ... as if her dreams had been a war.

It must have been one heck of a nightmare, Ginny figured, as she lay smothered in blankets, still half-sleeping but rising quickly from the edges of her own dreams at the sight of Hermione. She wanted to call out to the other girl, but felt she must be silent in the face of what Hermione's frightened eyes next did. Hermione's gaze, previously locked on the ceiling, slid down and traversed the room. It seemed to fixate on the sleeping form of the ever graceful, always composed...

"Fleur..." Hermione breathed. The name rose from her lips, seeming to float upward against the downward drifting world beyond the window. She held that gaze upon the blonde, so framed by moonlight and glimmering in the dark as to grasp even the little redhead, so hostile towards her, in awe. A glimpse of Hermione after stunned seconds of Fleur revealed no change in expression. Hermione was still in shock. Some realization seemed to be coursing through Hermione's veins, unfathomable to the little Weasley in its power over her friend.

Finally, Hermione's eyes returned to the ceiling. Ginny, tensely observing, felt Hermione's prolonged study of the air above her suggested her gaze had actually turned towards examination of her own mind in the aftermath of ... something. Finally, Ginny chanced it.

Whispered timidly, "Hermione?" hung in the air. Ginny waited, holding her breath as a long pause washed over her. No answer. She struggled with this ... had Hermione not heard her? Had she heard, but ignored the calling of her name? Again, she dared to speak.

"Hermione?"

More insistent and more plaintive came the little cry, but nothing was said in response and now Ginny gazed inward, surprised by her friend. A little while longer and still without answer, she fitfully tried to push away the silence and will herself back into the dark. 


End file.
